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“One day, as she worked her shift, weaving strands of fate, she happened to see a human hunter in the land of the Prettanic Isles.

The Cardinal rules regarding mingling with humans and leaving our collective are absolute.

None of us had ever before defied that particular dictate.

Since the inception of this order, which began with the creation of the universe, she was the first and only one to do so.

“Vaxingthe saw a handsome carefree hunter laughing, as he passed before the vision room that was her workstation.

She was instantly cursed with love, which led to breaking not one, but two rules.

She pierced the wall that keeps us secret from lesser beings and mixed her divine blood with that of a human.

“The affair was interrupted by Vaxingthe’s declaration of pregnancy.

The hunter’s admission, as he left her burdened with the greatest of all vulnerabilities, was that he was already married with children, and had no interest in taking on another obligation.

Our sister was unable to either undo or correct her mistake because, by breaking our laws, she’d rendered herself almost as helpless as a human, trapped in the human dimension.

When I say ‘almost’, I mean that some of her divinity clung to her changed state. Something akin to residue.

“Her capacity for godlike oversight was partially crippled, but she was resourceful. As her belly grew fuller by the day in a time that was notably cruel to unmarried women with children, she learned how to survive and navigate human life. Vaxingthe learned about the demands of human bodies like hunger and shelter and found that her innate weaving skills could be useful. She supported herself and you, her beautiful daughter, although modestly, until the day she was brutally murdered for suspicion of witchcraft. You knew her by the human name she adopted, Avice. The name meant she would see her enemy coming.” After a lengthy pause, Araxinthe said with unmistakable sadness, “She didn’t.

“When Cardinals leave the protection of our ethereal realm for any reason other than official directives, we leave immortality behind. We become as susceptible to disease, aging, and death as the lowest of creatures.

”It was a few hundred years before it came to our attention, accidentally, that Vaxingthe had born a daughter. A gifted daughter at that. Surprising since you’re half human.

“Your mother did not have permission to procreate.

So, she hid herself and you, using a very old and elusive spell.

Whether successful or unsuccessful, spells always exact a price.

In her case, the price she paid was lack of protection.

Once your existence became known to us, we immediately made plans to send a recovery team to bring you here, where you belong.

But there was something else that needed to be done.

“Death became Vaxingthe’s destiny, but the gruesome brutality of that death could not be overlooked.

When we learned what had happened, a tidal wave of rage crashed over the Cardinal collective.

Since time is fluid to us, it made no difference that it had been hundreds of years since your mother’s death.

The first impulse of the sisterhood was to level the town and its occupants with a theatrical purge that would teach humans a proper lesson.

Cooler heads among the body managed to mitigate the desire for revenge by pointing out that humans would not make the connection between the event and the punishment.

No living human had a hand in what happened to Vaxingthe.

It wasn’t even written into history. Witch burnings didn’t rise to that level of significance in the minds of humans at that time.

“Nonetheless, something had to be done in the name of justice. In a final compromise, we charged the demigoddess of weather with the task of sending a freak hailstorm. The modern town, which might better be called a small city, was pummeled with balls of ice so large they damaged everything not under the cover of concrete. Cars, roofs, people, and pets if they did not find shelter soon enough. It went on for hours. There were twenty-five deaths. Not enough to satisfy the anger that smoldered in the hearts of the Cardinals who’d known and loved Vaxingth, but it wasn’t nothing. ”

As understanding congealed in Esme’s conscious mind, her eyes flew open wide. “This isn’t a kidnapping! You don’t plan to let me go!”

Araxinthe looked surprised. “Of course, not. You’re obligated to take your mother’s place. Have you not been paying attention?”

Esme felt her jaws lock, but tried to discipline herself to remember one can’t be in control when emotions are out of control. After a deep breath in, she spoke carefully and deliberately.

“Yes. I have been paying attention. My mom had a job here. She left. You found out about me and abducted me against my will. You want me to take her place. Thanks. I’m flattered but not interested. I already have a life. Send me back. Now. Please.”

“Aren’t you even curious about the contribution you could make with your talents?”

“No.” Esme shook her head. “Not in the least. I’m happy with the contribution I’m making with my talents now. Send me back. Now. Please.”

It was abundantly clear that Araxinthe’s decisions weren’t questioned often, if ever. She continued as if she’d heard nothing that Esme said.

“We’re going to call you Fritjof. It’s your true name in the Book of Principle. It means concord, peace, and harmony.”

Esmerelda barked out a single laugh. “Concord? Peace? And harmony? In addition to being spectacularly misguided, that ridiculous ‘name’ is chock full of redundancy.”

Araxinthe sniffed, “Teatime has passed. Let us proceed with our work.” With a glance at the tea service worthy of New York’s Pierre Hotel, Araxinthe waved all trace into a state of non-existence.

“Work?” Esme looked around. “Think of me as being on strike. I have only one demand. Send me back.”

Araxinthe’s mouth formed a smile that looked more bitter than pleased. “It seems you’re well-acquainted with redundancy.”

“It seems you’re well-acquainted with sarcasm.”

“Getting your way is more important to you than harmony, isn’t it, Fritjof?”

“Bloody well right.”

The Cardinal overseer opened her mouth, but seemed to think better of saying out loud what had first come to mind.

“Your predilection seems to be related to weaving. Not the same as the occupation at which your mother excelled. But with a small shuffle of personnel, we should be able to accommodate your particular talents and preferences.”

“I ask for only one accommodation. Send me home.”

“Home? My dear, Fritjof. This is your home. The sooner you accept that you are here to stay, the sooner you will settle into doing your part to balance Earth’s governing laws.

You will be one of the weavers of fate and make sure creatures have an opportunity to learn the lessons necessary for spiritual growth. ”

Esme bit her tongue to stifle her argumentative impulse and digest what had just been said.

Wherever she was, whatever these creatures were doing, it was not where she was supposed to be, and she knew it to the depths of her soul.

Once again, her mind formed an image of Kagan holding enough flowers to stock Lily’s shop for a day.

She reasoned that perhaps it was time to start using her head.

Stop, look, and listen instead of popping off.

Since they weren’t going to send her back because of her protests, she might need to start planning an escape.

That thought was immediately chased by the realization that they could come for her as easily as before, as many times as they desired.

And there would be nothing she could do to stop them.

“Since I don’t seem to be getting anywhere with my pleas to be put back where I belong, how about a compromise?

Like a trial basis? I’ll give you a day.

I’ll check out the fate-weaving gig and, to be fair, I’ll try to keep an open mind.

However, if after a day, my mind isn’t changed, you’ll send me back. ”

“No.”

“No?”

“You have no leverage, Fritjof. You must begin adjusting to your new life. Here.”

Araxinthe waved, and two women dressed in saffron robes appeared on either side of Esme.

Without gripping her physically, she was pulled to a standing position and made to walk, by some unseen force, in between the two.

Like a puppet. Attempting to gain control of her body proved useless.

When that became irrevocably clear, she stopped fighting and decided to use the experience to look around and gain information.

She hoped the two Saffrons would be more open to communication than Scarlet had been.

“Hello. I’m Esmerelda. By whom do I have the displeasure of being frog-marched?” There was no indication that either of them heard or understood. “Helloooooo,” Esme sang out. “No speakey the English?”

No reaction. Esme sighed and turned her attention to her surroundings.

As they were exiting the pavilion, the clouds momentarily dissipated long enough for Esme to see that it served as the hub from which a dozen immense hallways extended like the spokes of a wheel to what might’ve been infinity for all she knew.

When her two escorts stepped into the hallway of choice with Esme in tow, the pavilion disappeared behind them.

As fascinating as all of that was, Esme was preoccupied with imagining what Kagan must be thinking. And feeling.